Steady
by Frehior
Summary: Alexander and Thomas keep each other upright, help each other be steady and not fall into what could be despair. They banter, they fight, and they love each other. But there's days where they just need to be held, be reminded that they have each other's back. / *Established relationship. Hurt/comfort, hurt Alexander Hamilton.
1. Hold me tight

_Thomas Jefferson/Alexander Hamilton_

 ** _STEADY_**

 **Summary:** Alexander and Thomas keep each other upright, help each other be steady and not fall into what could be despair. They banter, they fight, and they love each other. But there's days where they just need to be held, be reminded that they have each other's back.

*Established relationship. Warning for: holes in the narrative, hurt/comfort, hurt Alexander Hamilton.

* * *

Hold me tight.

Thomas wrapped his arms around Hamilton's smaller frame, bringing the man closer to his chest. Alexander whined, a small, high-pitched sound from the back of his throat, and firmly pressed himself against Thomas. He let out a ragged breath, and pulled one of Thomas' hands away from his mid section, entwining their fingers and giving a soft squeeze.

"What is the matter, love?" Jefferson whispered softly against Alexander's hair. He didn't get an answer, and his free hand went to caress his boyfriend's arm. "Are you upset? Perhaps something that happened at work?"

Silence answered once more, and he pressed his lips to Alexander's head firmly. He'd be worried if they hadn't shared this experiences before. He'd be worried if Alexander's breath was more quick, less controlled. He'd be worried if Alexander's body shook against his, and if broken sobs escaped those lips he adores so much. But Alexander's doing nothing of that. He's just quiet, still in his arms, breath a bit ragged, yes, but he's not showing any obvious sign of distress. Alexander was a resilient person, Thomas knew. He also knew all it took was a small nick in the right place for his walls to crumble, for his foundation to shake and for Alexander to fall on his ass and see all his resolve be blown away. This of course was covered up by a well-practiced facade. A mask he often put on in order to get through life. But he knew that in the solitude of their bedroom, Alexander would confide in him and let that drop. He'd expose himself to him. So he didn't worry at the moment.

He nuzzled Alexander's neck, soft kisses being pressed against his shoulder. "Did I say something upsetting at work? I stepped over the line, darling?" He hums after Alexander answers him with a soft 'No', just a whisper he's able to hear due to the stillness of the night, the silence of their room. "You want me to tell a joke? Want to watch T.V.?" Hamilton answers with a short shake of his head, a firm statement of a 'No'. Thomas thinks hard, putting his chin over Alex's shoulder. "I am running out of options, love." Thomas confides.

He doesn't like seeing Alexander like this. The roaring flame that moved his every step and fueled his every word and action, bringing life to those defiant eyes of his, igniting his desire to speak out his thoughts on every matter he wound himself around— that same flame dying to a small spark that seemed to be lost and engulfed in water, putting it off, was always something that made Thomas' stomach churn in a way he despised. Because he wasn't used to Alexander's energetic personality be dulled down to a silent man who would just look at you with empty eyes. He wasn't used to it. Sure enough, they had been through this more than once, had spent days and nights discussing the matter, laying down the steps they would be taking if they fell to this routine, this state Alexander fell to. It was okay, Thomas had told himself long time ago. Because he understood Alexander's burning flame could only burn for so long before the man he loved would hit a bump in the road and his loud words would be quieted down by the thoughts that plagued his beautiful boyfriend. Thoughts Thomas could do nothing but wait for them to leave the man, thoughts Thomas could only hope he could muffle with his words of adoration, of praise and love he'd often whisper to Alexander in these moments.

From the very beginning, Thomas had made it clear he couldn't understand the reasoning behind them, but he soon accepted there wasn't a need for reasoning. It just happened at times.

'Some times, Thomas, I find myself falling in a pit. It is not what I desire, and it is not a place I like to be. But some times, Thomas, I find myself unable to move from it.'

He remembered the time Alexander had told him that, after Thomas had raked his hands through his hair the night before, trying to pull Alexander out of his dulled state and ending up holding him between his arms, settling with cuddling his small frame against his. It had been on a more positive light Alexander had spoken out loud. It had been that same sharp mind that had laid down the facts to him, trying to reassure him that it was okay if Thomas couldn't do a thing to lift his spirits, although his attempts were welcomed and appreciated in a way Alexander said words could not express.

'There isn't always a reason, and I know I'm difficult in those times, Thomas. All I ask is for you to hold me, and I'll know that, even if I've fallen into this pit, I can always count you'll be lending your hand to pull me out from it.'

So Thomas does whatever he can to make Alexander know he has his back. He won't push him to speak to him, because he knows all he can do is wait for Alexander to get a hold of his hand and crawl out of the pit he's fallen into, all the while showing he'd be there if he were needed.

"Firmer." Alexander's command leaves Thomas confused, and he voices out this. "Rub my arm more firmly. Not so soft, please."

He'd almost forgotten he had taken upon himself to caress lightly his boyfriend's arm, losing himself to his thoughts as he carried out the action subconsciously. He did as told, his fingertips moving over tanned skin with firm strokes, with patterns drawn in whatever way his fingers wanted to move. A sigh of relief was left out by Alexander, and Thomas could feel him pressing up against him more, he could feel the press of his back against his front, firm, steady, just as the hand holding his squeezed with equal steadiness.

And he got it. Knew Alexander just needed to be reminded he was here. He need to be grounded to this reality, probably a necessity of whatever thoughts were fleeting through his mind. And he was happy with providing that, so he let Alexander curl against him, let his own leg wrap over his boyfriend's legs. If he could provide Alexander's mind some peace, he'd gladly do so. He'd hold him between his arms, against his body, and he'd whisper sweet words against his ear.

"Whatever you ask for, love. We don't even have to go to work tomorrow. We can call in sick, and we can stay all day in the house. We can stay in bed if that's what you want."

"I'd love that, Thomas."

If the way Alexander's body relaxed against his isn't enough to make Thomas' heart quiver with the love he felt for Alexander Hamilton, the way he whispers his name, with devotion and love, surely makes his body be washed over with the sheer unadulterated love he feel toward him. He smiles softly, feeling his chest burst with the amount of care he has come to feel for who once he could have called an enemy of sorts.

But the way Alexander's eye shine, brimming with love as he turns to face him, smiling in a way that is more blinding than the sun, in a way that makes his head spin and his thoughts stop, makes worth every single struggle they've gone through. He captures those lips he loves so much in a quick, chaste kiss.

"Let's rest, Alexander. Tomorrow I shall pamper you with my love."

And there's a stir in the dull mood of his beloved, a small, light laugh that makes his worry fade away. Thomas Jefferson swears Alexander's laugh, small as it is now, makes his soul ache in a way he can't explain, and he's more than happy and content with just sharing the night between a comfortable silence, before there's a soft snoring that's tell-tale of Alexander's mind giving up to sleep.

"I love you, Alex." He whispers, before closing his eyes and following down the path of sleep.

* * *

.

This is just a set of fanfics of hurt/comfort (or attempt to).


	2. Forget the nerves

**_STEADY_**

 **Summary:** _Thomas' nervousness when speaking in public is a real bother, which is why Alexander has taken it upon himself to help him in any way possible. Doesn't mean Thomas doesn't want to take extra time. He'll be taking that extra step to have more time to try and calm himself._

* * *

 _Forget the nerves._

Alexander looks enraptured at the way Thomas' leg bounces. Up and down, up and down, in a pace that is obviously sign of how distressed he is. Eventually he grows irritated at the action, and his hand is firmly placed over the knee of Jefferson, stopping the movement.

"Stop. It'll be fine. You'll be fine, Thomas. We've rehearsed this many times, and believe me, you'll do great." But even as he says that, in an attempt to comfort and calm him down, he can already feel the leg under his hand start to move again, slowly. "Trust me. When does Alexander Hamilton lies?"

A scoff is clearly out of those lips as soon as he finishes his question, a roll of eyes adding to the mix. "Yeah, like, I don't know. When do you not lie, asshole?"

Alexander laughs, only because he knows he's said his own share of lies over the course of time they've met. "Okay. But right now I'm being honest." His hand moves away from Thomas' knee, and he playfully gives him a nudge. "And if you don't get through them, just give 'em a wink and blow 'em a kiss. You'll have them in your palm in no time."

"Sure. Just because it works on you, it doesn't mean it works on anyone else." Thomas retorts, tightening his arms around him and pressing himself further into the seat.

"I'm hard to get. Surely it works on anyone."

"Ha!"

The small outburst brings a few curious gazes towards them, but they both ignore them. Alexander's face twists into an offended look, and he puts his nose high in the air. "I _am_ hard to get, you jerk."

"Sure, sure. And everything you say has perfect structure, everything you say is not so farfetched and crazy." There's a smirk full of mirth on his face, clearly trying to pull a nerve.

"Oh, yeah. Because, you know, it's not like I need to tell you how to do things. Because obviously you know how to do things."

"Shut up, Hamilton." Thomas breathes out, a small snarl on his face.

"Won't do, Jefferson." Alexander answers, leaning forward and entering Thomas' space.

"You better do."

"Make me." The smile on his face mimics the one on Thomas, and Alexander can't help his eyes straying from those beautiful browns to those lips that have some sort of magnetic pull to them. He can't never resist them.

Which is why he leans in and plants a soft kiss on them. It's brief, and the contact last less than three seconds, but Alexander's heart is already fluttering in joy and glee.

"Stop all this public display of affection, will you?" His smile betrays the apparent irritation at the action, and Alexander laughs at him, leaning his head on his shoulder and taking his hand between his.

"Will do if you promise to take deep breaths and take a glass of water."

Thomas hums, and lets his cheek rest on the top of Alexander's head. "Will you make dinner tonight?" He asks, letting out a sight to vent some of his nerves.

"I will, if you want me to. Or we can go out and have dinner. Whatever you wish."

They fall into silence, and Thomas is glad he insisted on taking a bus to job today, instead of driving. He had to insist Alexander, of course, because the small annoyance he had for a boyfriend — _which he loved very much, in spite of the ways they would often swing offending words towards each other in their playful banter_ — wanted to go on car, saying it'd take less time to arrive to work. Eventually he had to let him know he needed time to mentally prepare himself, repeat the words one time after another to make sure he would not forget them. Make sure he wouldn't screw up because he'd trip over his tongue, or because he'd let his insecurities and nervousness take over.

He had begged Washington to let Alexander be the one to talk. But Washington had refused, telling him Hamilton was not the most appropriate at the time, seeing he had almost gotten into a fist fight with some nosy news reporter last time, and had ultimately flipped him off, spitting angrily something in French under his breath that had Lafayette laughing for a whole ten minutes.

The rest of the way they stay in silence, Alexander muttering sweet endearments at times at him, which made his cheek burn and his heart stutter on his constant beating. He'd never miss the occasion to tell him to shut up, and Alexander would never miss the occasion to tell him he'd do so, only if Thomas kissed him.

By the time they arrived, Thomas certainly was less nervous, his mind occupied with what he'd ask Alexander to cook for dinner. He thanked whatever power he had over him to relax and forget about his nerves.

* * *

.

To clarify: this can be read as a follow-up to the previous chapter or not. BUT! All the following chapters are related to each other (most probably. Have in mind these are a way for me to vent some things, or write whatever I feel like- there's no "final point" I wish to go towards).


	3. Firm embrace

**WARNING!** Beware for some emotional hurt/comfort, and mentions of blood. Also some pretty awful things are told to Alex so if that's not your cup of tea... (Also possible OOC-ness).

 **Summary** : _At times, he'd just like to be embraced and held firmly. At times, all he can do is embrace him tightly and try to comfort him._

* * *

Firm embrace.

"Shit!"

The loud hiss pulls Thomas out of his reading, and he lets the book down on the couch, standing to see what did Alexander do now. "Alexander, something wrong?" He asks as he enters the kitchen, finding the aforementioned man crouched, one hand pressed against his chest as the other gathered the smashed pieces of glass into a pile.

"No, absolutely nothing. Just—"

"Just broke a glass, it's okay." Thomas supplied, hurrying to Alexander's side and gently getting hold of his arms, pulling him upright. "We can clean later, let me see you hand."

"No, it's okay, it's nothing." Hamilton's eyes deviate down to the floor, and he makes a start to get back to collecting the pieces. Thomas stops him short by giving a gentle pull to the arm that's pressed against his chest, and Alexander flinches visibly.

"I don't care if it's a small cut, Alexander. Let me see it."

"But th—"

"It can wait. Trust me. I'll later clean it up." Giving up on any more attempts, Alexander sighs and takes seat on the counter. Thomas makes the lingering pieces of glass aside with his shoe, and he wets a rag. "Show me."

Even if his boyfriend tries once more to assure him it's nothing big, Thomas already knows it isn't, judging by the big bloodstain already painting his clothes red. He keeps his eyes fixed on the bloodied hand as he jabs the wet rag around the edges, trying to clean it a bit before deciding what to do. Alexander flinches when he gets near the injury, and he looks at him, brows up.

"Good thing it's nothing." He quips, and earns a pointed look.

"It isn't."

Humming in response, he goes back to the task at hand. "And what where you doing?"

"Trying to get a glass of water. But your damn glasses are so… so… they are slippery."

"Yes, honey, and our sheets are needles."

"Fuck off, Thomas."

"I'll go fetch some alcohol, okay? Stay put and don't try to clean this mess bare-handed." He throws the bloodied rag on the sink, and makes a mental note to also bring a broom.

"I smacked it against the counter."

Alexander says before he's out of the kitchen, and Thomas stops. He doesn't say a thing, and waits for the truth to be told. After a few minutes, he hears Alexander mutter something under his breath, something about how he always ends up blurting the truth, and how Thomas is a jerk for always caring.

"I'm angry, okay? I was angry. It's— it's— I want to scream and smash something." He confesses, and looks at Thomas' back, waiting for him to turn around and tell him it's okay. He knows he'd like the whole truth, also. Which is why he keeps speaking. "So you know I'm not the popular folk around work. And you know, your last speech to those reporters was fantastic. Of course it was, everything you do is. And I was proud and I was happy but some jerk just— he fucking— gosh, I want to kill him. He just brought up how I almost fought one, and just said so casually— he compared me to a dog!" Cheeks red by anger at the mere memory, Alexander huffs loudly, trying to blow off some steam. "And like, okay? But he just. Went on, and on and kept making comparisons. How I should be put on a leash and, rabid dog I am, should be put a muzzle on, see if that can keep me from barking so much, barking without sense— and I am— he's— Thomas I want to fucking murder him, how dares he? Says bad dogs are meant to put to sleep and—and—and—"

He suddenly finds himself wrapped in Thomas's strong embrace, his nose buried against his neck. And he doesn't know when he started to cry, but the way he's being hold, the way Thomas kisses his shoulder and plays with his hair makes him keep blurting things.

"Shh, it's okay, Alex. You're not a dog."

"He goes and says—"

"Shh."

"—Says I should just be left at home, because dogs are not allowed to workplaces— and then. Fuck! Goes and calls me a bitch and says how— wonders how you— ghh—"

"Shush, love. It's okay. Calm down."

"—how you can keep such a bitch in line n' he— today— asked if a treat is given to me, do I know how ta make a trick?"

Thomas's eyes water up at the way Alexander's voice cracks, hiccups racking his body hard, desperate breaths being sucked in as he buries his head against his shoulder. His heart aches at the blow that's been landed against Alexander, and he knows that, if he weren't so worried trying to calm him down, he'd be on the phone, calling Washington, or going to murder whoever had offended him like this. He presses one kiss to his head, and lets his lips linger there, blinking the tears away.

"Listen, honey. We can later give this asshole what he deserves. For now I need you to breathe, okay?"

Alexander nods weakly against him, and Thomas pulls away, his hands going to cup Alexander's red face. He smiles gingerly at him. "You look like shit." The small laugh he gets is enough to make him feel more relaxed, but nonetheless he clears his throat, getting the attention he was searching for. He holds Alexander's gaze in his own, and slowly says, "One, two, Alex. In and out. You with me?" A nod is all he needs, and he breathes in a deep breath. "One." He says, before letting his breath go slowly. "Two. Do it with me, okay?"

They keep at it a few minutes, Thomas reassuring Alexander whenever a new sob would interrupt his breathing. One, two. In and out. Thomas took a glass and filled it with water from the tap. Alexander takes it with the hand that's not injured, and the other one is taken by warm fingers.

"Now, I still need to look at your hand. Is it okay if I do it now, Alex?"

Shaking his head in affirmative, he takes the first gulp of the glass of water, and feels the relief wash his body at the freshness it brings, as if the water washed up all the bitter emotion he had been keeping.

"It's okay. I thought it'd be worse. No need for stitches, I believe. But, it'll certainly leave a scar. Look how you got yourself cut around your fingers, Alex. Why would you try and pick it with your hands?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. We will go tomorrow to a doctor, still. Make sure nothing's wrong."

"No need for that, Thomas. " The hard, serious look he gets stops him short on any attempt to try and minimize the problem, so he simply smiles at him.

"And, if you feel like telling that asshole name, tomorrow we'll see he's fired."

Alexander's eyes flew open at that, and he tugs his hand back. "No need to!"

"Yes, there is. No one gets away with saying awful things like that, Alexander." Thomas presses, voice firm and commanding.

"What I mean is, Thomas," he laughs, and deviates his gaze, "I punched him so hard in the face today, I knocked him out cold. Also, Washington was there to whoop my ass, but I explained the situation to him. And he'll be talking to him as soon as he wakes up."

Thomas' lips stretch into a devious smirk. "Good thing you did. But still, I want to give him my share of hurt." Alexander laughs, and puts his arms around Thomas' shoulders, bringing him in for a kiss. "I want names, and an alibi, so I can properly murder him." Another laugh is torn from Alexander, and Thomas smiles at him. "I'll let you watch as I do."

"Shut up and hold me tight."

Thomas complies, and he takes advantage when thin legs wrap around his hips, lifting Alexander. "I'm gonna make love to you, and I'm gonna make you forget this. Deal?"

"But the glass—"

"Love first, glass second." Thomas says, taking Alexander's lower lip between his teeth. Alexander smiles wide at him, eyes shining, expectant. "Well, hand first. Then I'll make you forget everything but my name. It's that a deal?"

"Mmm. 'kay. You've got yourself a deal."


	4. Lets dance

_**STEADY**_

 **Summary:** _Some days, they just make something simple- like dancing. Thomas thinks himself lucky for having such a wonderful boyfriend, finds himself loving him with every inch of his heart. Thomas finds himself dancing with Alexander._

* * *

 _Lets dance._

Alexander comes home to find Thomas sat at the couch, in front of the TV, fingers against his lips. He notices he's nibbling at his nails absentmindedly, and as soon as he takes of his coat, he walks to him, gently swats his hand and frowns down at him.

Thomas looks at Alexander with a momentaneous puzzled and offended look, and when Alex puts his fingertips to his lips, he sighs and apologizes. "Sorry. Was just thinking about something." He says, swipes his fingers against his jeans.

"Must be something big to lose yourself in your thoughts." Hamilton says, takes seat next to Thomas and snatches the remote. "And to be watching a channel of adds." He points out, brows rising in a questioning manner to the vacuum on the screen.

"Ah? Oh, right. Sorry. I wasn't really watching, it seems."

"Want to speak what's troubling you?" Alexander tries first, looks at Thomas from the corner of his eye, sees him shaking his head in negative. "Okay. You can handle it by yourself, I assume? Nothing I should worry about."

"Nothing. I'll surely get over it by next week."

"If you say so…" He flips through the channels, searching something that could be of interest, and perks up when he lands on a channel that's playing a soft melody. He puts the remote on the coffee table, and stands, hand outstretched before Thomas and silently asking for the other's hand. "Lets dance."

"What?"

"Lets dance." Alexander repeats himself, still waiting for Thomas to grab his hand.

"I don't— Alex, you know I'm— know—"

"I know you don't like dancing in crowded places." He interrupts, and takes it upon himself to take his boyfriend's hands, pulls him up and drags him behind the couch, where they had more space to dance. "I also know you think you don't know how to dance."

He guides one of Thomas' hand to his hip, lets it rest there as he puts his own hand in Thomas' hip, brings them close, touching. He smiles up at him, and receives a soft and warm smile, brown eyes full of adoration. His heart flutters excitedly in his ribcage, and he can feel himself blush.

"But no one's looking. We can make mistakes, step over each other. So lets have one hell of a fun evening. Dance until we can't anymore, until we've broken everything that crosses on our path. Lets dance. Lets do it to our heart's content, until you forget about whatever worries you. Until you forget your nerves, insecurities, until we're both tired and sated. Lets dance, Thomas, until we feel like we are soaring in the sky, our feet and glee our wings that keeps us up."

Thomas finds himself silent, reveling in Alexander's words, the way his eyes shine and his smile is wide. He leans down to kiss those pretty lips, rubs his nose against Alexander's, prompting a light laugh from him. He wants to take Alexander between his arms, twirl him around until he's laughing in a way that always makes Thomas feel blessed, until they're both dizzy and are toppling down to the floor, laughing, touching each other, kissing each other, until they are breathless and are hugging each other tightly.

"Lets dance." He accepts in a whisper, and searches Alexander's big brown eyes, takes in the joy they show, the life they reflect.

For now, he'll settle for dancing, follow Alexander's step and try not to break anything as they move around the house, across the furniture, gliding in the floor with practiced steps or spontaneous moves.

Dancing always seemed to be an option for any moment available. Alexander loved dancing, be it to follow a tune, a laid down step-by-step, or simply moving however he felt like. He'd dance as if he'd rehearsed the dance thousand of times before, or like he was a deer on shaky legs. Either way, Thomas liked to see him dance.

So they dance, move around in practiced moves that they both know, know so they can match, they dance in a stupid and free way, making faces at each other, they dance being close to each other, holding each other, they dance pressing their chest together, holding hands. Thomas twirls Alexander more than once, and Alexander does so too, Thomas having to duck under his boyfriend arm, laughing whenever he dragged Alexander.

He lost track of how much time passed, how many songs filled the air, one after the other, he forgot how many times he had to pull Alexander out of the way of something he could break, how many times they stepped over each other's feet, how many times they had tripped over their own steps, how many kisses they had shared. By the end of it, their dance had slowed down to simply swaying to a soft tune, Alexander's face pressed against Thomas' arm, as Thomas' chin rested over Alexander's shoulder. They both had an arm wrapped over the other's waist, their other hand clasped together. Thomas hummed in Alexander's ear, and pressed a kiss to his temple.

"God, you're fucking gorgeous, Alexander." He whispers, feeling the air leave him by uttering those words. "I love you Alexander, my boy. I'm so lucky to have you."

And he is. Or he feels like it. But he's damn sure he's the luckiest man alive, having such passionate and loving boyfriend. He's grateful for every stone that has been placed in his life, that had lead him to Alexander Hamilton. Every sad and happy moment, every bitter memory. He would give nothing away, change nothing, because all of it had him standing here, with Alexander pressed close to him, his feet hurting like hell, but his mind at peace and his heart bursting with love for this man he could call his boyfriend.

"Aren't we both lucky, Thomas?"

"We are."


	5. Grounding touches

_**STEADY**_

 **Summary:** _There are times when they bare each other's worries. There are times where they are insecure. But all those times, they can fall into each other. They manage._

* * *

Grounding touches.

.

They come home giggling, occasionally stopping in their way to their bedroom to share a quick, sloppy kiss, to push the other against a wall and let their hands roam their partner's body. They never move past that, simply enjoying each other's touch, reveling on the warmth the other arose on their skin.

Alexander lets out a breathy laugh when he finds himself pinned against the wall, wrists held above his head as Thomas noseshis neck, the soft touch making the hairs on his nape stand on end.

"Get off me you jerk." Alex whines, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. He was beginning to feel slightly dazed and sleepy. Probably due to the late hour and the alcohol he had drank this night.

"But I like to have you at my mercy, my dear." Thomas says, before kissing Alexander on his temple, making the kiss sound loudly.

Slipping his hands easily away from Thomas' grasp, Alexander pushes him, laughing before heading to their shared bedroom. "You're an annoyance," he says over his shoulder, rubbing at his ear. Thomas had the habit of kissing him in the ear or near it, purposefully making it sound. It was his way of messing around with him while being affectionate, and, while it was not something he did often, the times he did was annoying, as he had stated.

Thomas shrugs to himself, following Alexander to their lit-up bedroom (courtesy of Alex), watches as he collapses on their bed face-first. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. "You won't take a shower?" He asks, and gets a muffled groan as an answer. They both probably reek of alcohol and cigarettes and sweat and whatever the hell that club they had gone to smelt like. He knows that if neither take a shower and change clothes, tomorrow their bedsheets will smell like that too.

After a few seconds pass, Alexander rolls on the bed, propping himself on his elbows and winking at Thomas. "Tomorrow we can do laundry." He says, and laughing, he drags himself across the bed, until his head is at level with the pillows and he lets himself fall against them. "C'mere, Jefferson." He says, lifting his arms as an invitation.

Thomas complies eagerly, kneeling at the foot of the bed before giving a soft slap to Alexander's leg. "Get rid of the shoes, Alexander."

Falling into a fit of giggles, Alexander covers his face with both hands, and Thomas rolls his eyes, before taking off his and Alexander's shoes.

"Thank you, love." The weight on the bed shifts around him and Alex can tell Thomas has moved to hover over him, his taller body covering his own with ease. He breathes in deeply and moves his hands away from his face, "…"

There's a hot lived second that make tears spring to his eyes, and his breathing gets caught as he looks up at Thomas, whose eyes are smoldering with love. And Alexander's chest is already bubbling with emotion. He smiles at Thomas nervously, and places his hands on both sides of Thomas' face, his thumbs moving over his cheeks slowly.

" _Fuck_ ," he breathes out, eyes glued to Thomas', " _You're fucking gorgeous._ "

Thomas' smile is blinding, and only brings more tears to his eyes. He stays glued to his place, as his boyfriend leans in and kisses him lightly, before resting his forehead against his.

This time, Alexander's laugh is shaky, and his breathing becomes labored as he closes his eyes for a moment. He feels the tears slide down his cheeks, and Thomas' hand, warmth and comforting, moves away one hot trail away, smearing the wetness across his cheek. He doesn't mind.

"Hey, are you okay?" Alexander nods and bites down on his lower lip, hoping his tears would stop. It worries Thomas to see him like that, "Alex, could you open your eyes?" This time, he answers with a ' _no_ ', lip still held between his teeth and eyes still closed.

Thomas shifts to move away, but Alexander's hold on his cheeks pull him in for a kiss. It's messy, and desperate, and it only last for about four seconds, before Alexander pulls him away and turns his head sideways.

"You're beautiful, Thomas."

"It's not that I'm not flattered, Alex, but it's beginning to worry me… could you tell me why are you crying?" He moves away a few lose strands of hair from Alex's face, and waits for his answer patiently.

Sucking up a deep breath, Alexander turns to look at him finally, smiling apologetically through his tears.

"I can't believe you love me." He admits, and it makes Thomas' chest ache with a faint trace of pain. "That I'm lucky enough to have you. That I'm even worthy of—"

Without missing a beat, Thomas begins speaking, knowing where this is coming from, "Oh, Alexander, of course you're worthy, of course I love you." He kisses his nose and cheeks, presses a long kiss agains his lips until the pain he's felt on his chest diminishes a bit. "You know you're a great boyfriend. I'm happy I met you, and that I have you."

" _Fuck. You're gorgeous. I don't deserve you._ "

Thomas laughs lightly, a bit nervous, and sits back, careful of not letting his whole weight fall on Alexander's stomach. He cups Alexander's hands on his own, and keeps them in place as he turns to kiss each palm.

"Come, now. Don't be saying all that stuff. It ain't what I think 'bout ya."

Alexander huffs amused at that southern accent, and looks fondly at Thomas. "I fucking hate it when you speak like that." He says, but his voice betrays such statement.

"Ya love it."

"I don't."

"Okay, you don't." He brings both hands under his chin, holding them for a moment, before bringing them to his lips, kissing each of the knuckles, watching Alexander smile sheepishly at him. "I worry about you, dear. I love you deeply, don't forget that."

"I'm okay." Alex whispers back, before sniffing and taking one hand to remove his tears. "It was just..."

"It's okay." He smiles, before leaning his weight once more on his knees, at each side of Alex's hips. "Well... I think we were in the middle of something." Thomas says, taking up his wrists once more to pin them on the pillows.

"I think we were..."

And one more time Thomas is in his neck, lips softly trailing a path towards his collarbone, hot breath fanning over his skin. He gently nips at the skin there, before going up once more, his breath tickling Alex's ear.

"I love you."

New tears prickled at Alexander's eyes, and he shifted his head to rest it against Thomas' cheek, smiling to himself. "I know."

"Good. Don't... forget that." Thomas croaks, sharply sucking in a breath.

There was a shudder from Thomas. Worried, Alexander looks up, his forehead brushing Thomas' cheek. A wet droplet falls against his skin, and his stomach churns with insecurity.

"Thomas? Are you crying?"

"I'm... of course I'm not. Just. Need a moment."

It was obvious, by the sound of his voice, that he was crying. But Alexander knew better than to push the subject. He knew Thomas didn't like making a fuss when he cried like this, says it's just some emotion leaking out unbidden. So he decides not to point it out and tries to change the mood.

"Want to call it a day and hug for a moment? I think it'd be great."

"That's a good idea. I'd love that."

Thomas lays next to Alexander, facing him, his chest raising and falling with timed exhalations and inhalations, clearly calming himself. Alex rolls to his side, smiles wide at him, his hand reaching towards his face and moving away the tears.

"Don't cry, please." Alex whispers, getting as an answer a weak ' _I'm not_ ' from Thomas. "You are. I'm sorry if I worried you."

"It's no big deal. You have the right to get emotional."

"You do too, Thomas." The frown on Thomas' face was tell-tale of the upcoming denial that he wasn't getting emotional. "Don't try to hide it, please. C'mere, let me be the big spoon."

There's a moment of silence, where neither speak or move. They simply look at each other.

Thomas wants to decline, turn the offer around and say that he'll be the big spoon. Uncertainty eats at him as he hesitates on his words, but finally, he decides not to make a fuss of it.

"I'll go turn off the lights, then."

"I will wait."

Alexander closes his eyes as he waits for him to return, thinks to himself once more how much he adores him. His stomach gets a funny feeling just for thinking about it, and he smiles goofily at himself.

When he feels Thomas's weight on the bed, he waits for him to fall against his chest so he can wrap his arms around him, and bury his nose on Thomas's hair.

"You're just that precious to me, Thomas. And I love you so, so much." Alex whispers, his hand slipping under Thomas' shirt, fingertips trailing softly the warm skin of his stomach and chest.

"I just... it was your night, not mine." Thomas says, curling into himself in shame.

"Hush. If it's a night I share with you, I'm happy."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Alexander reassures him, "I wasn't... I'm okay. I only lost my ground for a moment, found myself at a loss of words with how beautiful you are. It's overwhelming at times, to see you loving me so much."

Thomas stays silent for a moment, thoughts swimming around those words. He smiles at himself, a tad bit bitter about how this night unfolded. "I'm sorry." Thomas tries again, closing his eyes and pressing himself flush against Alexander, taking comfort in the warmth that embraces him.

Silence stretches between them, and Alexander debates between letting the topic slip off or trying once again to reassure Thomas.

"I mean it." Alexander says, and his voice sounds too loud to him, so he presses a kiss to Thomas' back for a moment, tries to find the proper tone. "I know you don't like it much when you have these... emotional outbursts. But never feel like you need to apologize for them. What you're feeling is valid, Thomas. And I respect you wanting to cover them until you're in a better spot to discuss them, but you don't need to apologize or feel sorry."

"I had just... planned this night to be all about you."

"Well, I don't see why it can't be about _us_."

"Because—"

"Hey, Thomas, baby, listen. Try to put this out of your mind, okay?" He pleads, pressing another kiss into Thomas' shoulder. "And, if you still feel bad tomorrow evening, you can always take me out to have pizza to make up for tonight."

A light snort makes Alexander smile wide. That was a good sign. A light snort means that Thomas' mind has wandered somewhere else. After a few seconds, the man turns around in his arms, wriggling his body so he is facing Alex.

"Hamilton, I'm not spoiling you. Pizza is shitty dinner."

Bitting back a grin, Alex replies, "Pizza is the greatest way to finish a day, Thomas, and you know it."

"I'm making spaghetti, if you wish to insist further."

"And chocolate cake for dessert."

"Don't push it, Hamilton."

Snickering to himself, Alex kisses Thomas' nose once he has identified it in the darkness of the room. "Wounding, love. Calling me by my last name."

"When you're being a brat, yes."

Alexander laughs at that, and he pulls himself to a half-sitting position in bed, before moving to straddle Thomas, who has moved to lay back on his back. Alex's hands soon hold his face, his thumbs moving across it so he can easily pinpoint where those lips he so desires are. "Shut up and kiss me, Jefferson."

When Alex's lips finds those of his boyfriend, he can feel the smile against his lips, and he's glad he's managed to dissuade him from the previous mood. These nights, Alexander thinks to himself silently, are particularly sensitive for both of them. They both have their own insecurities they try to smother down, insecurities that might as well come from a dark place. When they were both bare, their nerves a mess as thoughts and emotions bubbled up to the surface, it was hard to say what could happen. One's insecurities might feed the other's. But they always managed. Always put them back into place, cut them from the stem.

And as they hold each other, hands moving to leave soft caresses against uncovered skin, they seem to ground each other out, remind themselves that they _do_ deserve the happiness each gives the other, doubts be damned. They had had their share of strife to keep feeding those negatives thoughts. But they had worked hard to come to where they stood. Had both struggled in their own way to accept the happiness the other gave and allow themselves to feel it. All the work they had put into their relationship wouldn't crumble under bitter thoughts that always managed to round their minds.

They had each other. They had themselves.

Thomas' knuckles softly trail along Alexander's jaw, the loving caress sliding down to his neck, where the movement stops and instead Thomas' fingertips, firm and grounding, follow his collarbone.

Alexander moves away from the kiss, just enough to allow himself a smile, before he kisses the corner of Jefferson's lips, shifting his body so he can press his cheek against Thomas' as comfortably as he could. " _You truly are gorgeous, Thomas._ " He whispers, a sigh escaping through his lips. He feels blessed to have this man here, in their shared bed, laying under him.

A low huff leaves Thomas as he closes his eyes, moves his arms so he could properly wrap Alexander in a loving hug. Alexander lets him, and he further moves so he could lay on Thomas, chin softly pressed against his shoulder.

" _Thank you, Alex. And, Alex…_ " He lets his voice drift, only finishing what he wants to say after Alex has hummed softly, " _You truly do deserve me, darlin'._ "

Alexander's smile grows big, and he sighs at the words, pleased, allowing his heavy eyelids to fall close, enjoying the warmth of Thomas' body against his, the slow intake and exhale of breath, the lulling of his heartbeat.

He falls asleep to those sensations, feeling safe and loved.

* * *

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Sorry for not updating in a long time! I totally forgot I had an account here ( _sooorry about that_ ). Apart from that, this chapter was a hassle. It just kept feeling wrong and wrong. And after many changes, I've managed to be content with it :D!

On the other hand, there's an already written chapter which might take it's time. Because, I, uh... suck at English poetry and can't seem to make it work/pick up the right words. So if anyone would be willing to lend a hand, I would very much appreciate it 3. Until next time!


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